I snort. “Wow. Subtle. You’d think they’ve got money riding on how long we last.”
He drops the card beside the bucket and strides down the hall. I follow.
In the bedroom, he pulls open the closet doors. My dresses, sweaters, and boots hang there like they never left. In the bathroom, my makeup bag and hairbrush are neatly lined up beside his razor. On the nightstand, my Kindle waits under the lamplight, just where I used to leave it after falling asleep mid-chapter.
Aiden stops at the edge of the bed and turns to me,his hands sliding over my shoulders. His eyes search mine, a mix of wonder and something softer, deeper.
“They moved you in while we were away,” he says reverently.
“Looks like I live here again.”
His gaze snaps to mine, and there’s something raw and happy and so Aiden in it that my my heart does a little somersault.
“You planned this,” he accuses, but there’s no heat behind it.
“I plead the fifth.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me. “You’re not leaving again,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Not planning on it, honey,” I whisper back.
We go back into the living room. I pick up the champagne.
“What are you planning to do with that?” he asks cheekily.
“Pop it, of course!”
“Only if you open it without taking out a light fixture this time.”
“That happenedone time, Aiden.”
“And you dented the ceiling,” he reminds me. “Let me do it, okay?”
Aiden grabs the bottle and does that slow, careful dance one has to do when opening sparkling wine—hands firm, thumb braced, easing the cork instead of forcing it. He tilts the bottle just so, eyes narrowed in concentration.
With a soft pop and fizz, the cork slips free. Aiden lifts the bottle triumphantly.
“See? That’s how it’s done.”
I arch an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Oh, congratulations for not putting a hole through the ceiling.”
He grins, pouring the champagne into two flutes sitting by the bucket. “That’s because I’m a man of many talents.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.
We clink our champagne glasses, the crystal ringing between us. He lifts his glass slightly higher, his gaze steady on mine.
“Welcome home, baby.”
Emotion swells in my chest as I whisper back, “Thank you. I love being home.”
We sip, the bubbles sharp and bright on my tongue, but nothing compares to the way his mouth finds mine a moment later. The kiss is soft, threaded with promise.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
In that quiet space, with champagne still fizzing in our glasses, I know it deep in my bones that we are finally whole.
CHAPTER 40
